Sweeney Todd's Demonic Pizzeria of Fleet Street
by hazel260
Summary: Sweeney's not a barber anymore! Oh noes! So what now? He's opening a pizza shop! Comedy. BTW, I'm taking over for Ruby Thorn. She and I co-wrote this fic. :D
1. The Idea

"Gosh, I'm dreadfully hungry

"Gosh, I'm dreadfully hungry!"

Sweeney Todd looked up at his companion and blinked blearily.

"What'd you say? Sorry, that gin's gone to my head." Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes. "I said I'm dreadfully hungry!"

Sweeney grinned demonically. "I know exactly what you mean love, being a murderer sure works up a ferocious appetite!"

Mrs. Lovett finished beating a pie crust with a rolling pin, smiling slightly. "It's a darn right shame there's not a good pizza parlor on Fleet Street." She sighed.

Sweeney snorted. "I know, the only food joint around here is Anthony's Deli, and I'm sorry to say, but that lad cant even make a sandwich; too busy singing 'bout some girl named Johanna..."

Mrs. Lovett smirked. She sighed drearily once again as she contemplated her pie crust. "An' it seems that no one likes my meat pies deary...it's an awful waste of a perfectly good priest!" she laughed.

Both Sweeney and Lovett sat in silence for a moment, thinking. In sync, they both whipped their heads up to stare at each other, and after a moment both realized the other's thoughts. In a moment of childish competition they both shouted, "I thought of it first!"

The glared at each other moodily. Mr. Todd was the first to speak. "Oh, no you didn't!"

Lovett crossed her arms and shouted, "Oh yes I did!"

Sweeney pulled out his razor from his holster. Lovett jumped until he started stroking it tenderly while holding it up to his ear. He paused as if listening to it for a few seconds before muttering, "Are you sure?"

Lovett rolled her eyes. "Is that the razor you're always talking to?"

Sweeney turned to glare at her. "His name is JEREMY!" he protested. He turned back to his razor. "Don't worry my sweets, she didn't mean it in a bad way…"

Lovett watched the peculiar sight for a few moments before turning away and muttering, "He loves that darned razor more then me."

Sweeney jerked around. "No flipping duh!" he responded sarcastically.

Lovett glared at him again. The tension hung in the air for a minute before Lovett asked, "What was _our_ idea again?"

Sweeney stroked his razor again. "I was thinking Jeremy would make a lovely pizza cutter." He murmured dreamily. "Was that your idea as well?"

"Um…_no_. I was thinking that I could make some really cheap pepperoni out of your victims and sell them on pizza since nobody seems to like my pies…"

"Hey we didn't have the same idea!" Sweeney interrupted.

Lovett rolled her eyes.

_Ding!_

"Oh look, the poet's done!" she exclaimed. She bustled over to the oven and pulled out a pie.

Sweeney glanced at her. "Poet?"

Lovett nodded and took a whiff of the pizza. She wrinkled her nose automatically. "Ew, even_ I_ think that's a nasty pie!" She began to hum to herself, "The problem with poet is how do you know it's deceased? Try the priest!"

Suddenly, Sweeney jumped up out of his chair, knocking it to the floor and shrieked, "That's it! I'm a genius!"

. "An evil genius my sweets?" Lovett asked without even looking up.

"Well, yes, but anyways…I'LL open that pizza parlor! I can see it now! SWEENEY'S DEMONIC PIZZA OF FLEET STREET!"

Lovett finally looked over, amused. "Do you really want to put 'demonic' in the name, love? Just be as plain as day about it?

Sweeney looked at her, surprised that she didn't understand. "Well yes, yes I do. It throws off the suspicious."

"Well, okay then…"

"And you can turn my victims into meat for the pizza and…"

"And?"

"And Jeremy can cut the pizza into slices! I'm an evil genius I tell you!"

Lovett thought for a minute. "Well then I guess I better start converting my shop into a pizzeria." She thought out loud. "Oh, and you're going to have to grow a thin little mustache."

"Why on Earth would I do that?" Sweeney protested. "I already know one mad "Italian" soprano barber, and I do not want to be like him!"

"All pizza makers have those mustaches! And those adorable lil' accents!" Lovett answered calmly.

"And I s'pose next you'll be telling me to wear a chef's hat right?" the barber/ pizza man muttered sarcastically.

Lovett grinned and placed a hat on Sweeney with a flourish. "You bet dearest!" she smiled.

Sweeney sighed as Lovett began to convert her pie crust to a pizza crust. The pizza shop was on its way!


	2. The Shop of Doom Opens

**Hello readers! This is a 'DUH!' but obviously I'm not Ruby Thorn. This is her story, though. I'm just kind of taking over because she's been really busy. The first chapter, I wrote the basic plot, and then Ruby put it in story-form. Chapter 2 is the other way around. Ruby wrote it, but I expanded on it and put it in paragraphs and such. Hopefully, it's not too much of an inconvenience for this author switch and Ruby and I don't lose any readers.**

* * *

Lovett stood outside the newly remodeled barber shop, – now pizzeria, – waiting as a crowd gathered on 'OPENING DAY', declared a sign hung over the little shop in red writing. Everyone outside Sweeney Todd's Demonic Pizzeria of Fleet Street thought the red was a beautiful color, and it reminded them of pizza sauce, but Sweeney knew he had decided to paint it red because the color made him think of blood – of vengeance. He was about to burst into yet another song when Lovett said, "Come outside, love, there are a ton of people all waiting for the grand opening!" She waved her hands frantically, motioning for him to come to her – both metaphorically and physically. Sweeney crossed the Italian-décor-inspired first floor to look out the window.

"The line's going all the way down the street," he said, a bit impressed with himself and his devious, secretive activities.

"Looks like Anthony's Deli will be going out of business," replied Lovett. Sweeney chuckled as he walked towards the door.

"So, should we go ahead and cut that blood red ribbon we wrapped around the door?" asked Lovett, eager to begin anything with Mr. Todd.

"It would be a downright shame not to," said Sweeney. "I've been dying to do that for ages!" He took his favorite razor out of its holster on his belt. "Jeremy, you can do the honors!"

"Alright, let's go!"

"Hold on!" said Sweeney, holding up his razor-hand like a blood red stop sign. Then he plastered a fake Italian mustache to his face. "Ready to go!" he said with excitement for the first time in his miserable, post-Australia life.

As Sweeney stepped outside, the waiting crowd cheered. Mrs. Lovett blushed, but Sweeney took in all the praise and attention he could get from those unknowing suckers.

"Hello, my fellow Londoners!" shouted Lovett to the group in front of the building. "Welcome to the grand opening of Sweeney Todd's Demonic Pizzeria!" she added with a dramatic sweep of her arms.

Sweeney interjected with a big smile, "Jeremy and I are guaranteed to kill you in less than thirty minutes or your money back!" He stroked his razor lovingly.

"Huh?" exclaimed the crowd, looking around in confusion. Mrs. Lovett glared at Sweeney.

"ONLY KIDDING!" she shouted with a kindly grin. Sweeney looked at her moodily. He wasn't kidding.

He whispered to Jeremy. "Don't worry, dear, she's being a right old pest, she is."

Lovett glared at Sweeney again. "I heard that!" she whispered fiercely. Then she addressed the anxious crowd. "We will be selling the best pizza in London! All meat is fresh!"

Sweeney laughed. "In fact," he said, "most of the meat was killed this morning!"

The crowd laughed, thinking this was a joke, and Sweeney smiled manically.

"So let's get this party started!" called Lovett. "My esteemed love – I mean, colleague – will be cutting this blood red ribbon, and we'll be in business!"

The crowd cheered some more.

"Come now, love," said Sweeney, and Mrs. Lovett turned around, blushing madly, but Sweeney had not been talking to her but to Jeremy. "Come now, Jeremy! Time to cut! I know you love doing that!"

Lovett looked away, embarrassed as Sweeney cut the ribbon. Then the mad crowd rushed into the pizza parlor, ready to fill their unknowing stomachs with fresh meat – _very_ fresh meat.

"One slice of pepperoni pizza, please," shouted the first customer.

"Coming right up, dear!" said Lovett with a smile and twinkling eyes. She handed him a little priest, and he took a bite.

"Delicious!" he exclaimed. "What a pizza!" The customer jumped up on a table and yelled, "Hey everybody! Sweeney's Demonic Pizzeria has the best pizza in London!"

The crowd oohed and ahhed.

"Cheese, please!" shouted a second customer.

"Do you have hamburger?" yelled another.

"Pepperoni for me!"

"Sure, okay, sure!" said Lovett. She bustled around the room, giving the customers their dead pizzas. "Mr. Todd, a hand, please?"

Sweeney looked up, startled. "Huh? What'd you say, Lovett?"

"Help? Please? The customers are vicious!"

"Not now, if you don't mind. I'm busy."

"Busy doing what? All you're doing is drinking gin!" exclaimed Lovett, already tiring.

"Actually," Sweeney corrected, "it's rum, and I'm multi-tasking."

"I thought men couldn't do that!" yelled Mrs. Lovett, still hurrying around the little Italian shop.

"Well, I'm different!" said Sweeney. "I'm also practicing my Italian accent!"

Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes and went away to make more pizzas. The customers kept coming until Lovett was completely sold out.

"Well, that was quite a busy day!" she said, wiping her brow and slumping into a chair after all the customers had left.

"Quite! Exploring cultural differences is quite draining! Jeremy and I are wiped!"

"I was talking about our business!" Lovett threw out her arms in frustration. "We sold out!"

"What's that?" asked Sweeney. "We sold out! That's great!"

"I know, right?"

"Yeah," said Sweeney with a smug grin, "and it's all because of my brilliant idea! I'm _such_ an evil genius!"

"Nuh-uh!" argued Lovett.

"Yeah-uh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

Sweeney pouted. "Yeah-huh!"

"Fine, whatever," said Lovett, too exhausted to continue, "but tomorrow you're going to use your Italian accent and HELP ME! And if not…" She held up her rolling pin in a threatening hand and let her words trail off.

"Fine!" said Sweeney with fear. "Jeremy and I will grace you with our fine presences, if we must!"

Lovett rolled her eyes and went upstairs, leaving Sweeney Todd, the Demonic Pizza Man of Fleet Street, talking in an Italian accent to himself and his lovely razor.

* * *

**And there you have it! Please do review. We've gotten very few hits and absolutely no reviews so we are kind of lonely. :'(  
Next chapter, we'll see how being in the pizza business isn't so easy, even when Sweeney does do something other than practice his accent!**


	3. Business is Booming

**Hello, readers. Sorry that it's been so long since the last posting. Ruby and I had serious writers' block. :( That's some bad stuff. I hope it's not contagious. In this chp, you'll see some familiar songs...at least, they were familiar until I got a hold of them. XD Please do enjoy.**

* * *

Sweeney Todd's Demonic Pizzeria of Fleet Street had been open for a week, but Sweeney was still not yet accustomed to the pizza business. Sweeney was trying to form a ball of dough into a pizza crust that Friday morning, and it was not going so well.

"Out, I say! Out!" Sweeney threw the pizza dough across the shop, barely missing all the customers waiting for their pizzas. Mrs. Lovett came rushed out of the back room.

"All this running and shouting about," she said. "What's happened?"

Sweeney began pacing behind the counter, singing, "No, I had it! The dough was there beneath my hand. I swear I had it! The crust was there, and now I'll never try again!"

"Easy now, hush love hush. I keep telling you–"

He interrupted her, continuing his song. "When? Why do I try? You told me to try – Now I'll never try again. There's a hole in the world like a great black pit, and they're filled with pizza's that are filled with , and the vermin of the world that eat it. But not for long...WE ALL DESERVE TO DI – EAT A GOOD PIE!!"

"Which _I_ make!"

The newly-turned pizza man ignored Lovett. "Tell you why, Mrs. Lovett, tell you why. Because in the whole pizza business, Mrs. Lovett, there are two kinds of crusts and only two. There's the one they call a pan and the one with a thin crust in New York City. Look at this, Mrs. Lovett, look at that. We all deserve to eat a good pie. Even you, Mrs. Lovett…even I. Because the lives of the hungry should be made brief for the rest of us dinner will be a relief. We all deserve to eat a good pie."

All the customers in the shop, who were getting quite impatient, chorused, "That's right, we do!"

"And I'll never see Joanna. No, I'll never hold my girl to me – finished!"

A customer towards the back of the line sang, "No, we'll never get our pizzas! This line is so long!"

"Alright! You sir, you sir, how about a pizza? Come and visit your good friend Sweeney. You sir, you sir? Welcome to the gra-I mean, shop." He began walking around the pizza shop.

The same customer sang out his order. "I will have anchoviiiiiies!"

Sweeney Todd only ignored the customers. "I will have vengeance."

A second customer joined in the song. "I will have bacooooooon!"

"I will have salvation. Who sir, you sir? No one in the pizzeria, come on!"

The first customer chimed out again. "What do you mean, 'no one'? If we get any more people in here, we'll have to call the fire marshal!"

Sweeney was still completely oblivious of the waiting customers. "Come on! Sweeney's waiting. I want you **eaters**. You sir – anybody. Gentlemen, don't be shy! Not one man, no, not ten men. Not a hundred can assuage me–"

"Did you say sausage? That sounds good!" sang a third customer.

"I will have you – I mean, you will have a pizza! And I will get him back even as he eats. In the meantime, I'll practice on dishonorable thr – mouths! And my Lucy lies in ashes. And I'll never see my girl again."

"Mr. Todd!" yelled Mrs. Lovett, scrambling to help all the customers by herself. "Get over here and help me serve the customers!"

But the ex-barber only continued to sing. "Ah, yes! But the work waits!"

"I'm full at last!" sang the first customer.

"I'm alive at last!" sang Sweeney Todd.

"And I'm full of pizza!" sang the second.

Sweeney threw up his arms. "And I'm full of joy!" Then he put his arms down and calmly began to put cheese on a pizza.

**LATER**

"Geez," sighed Sweeney, shutting the front door behind the last customer to leave, "we sure were busy today."

"Yes, we were!" Lovett exclaimed. "It's only our week-iversary, and business is already booming!" She sat down at one of the red, white, and green booths, unfolding a newspaper, exhausted from the day's work.

"Our what?" Sweeney looked up from locking the door, very confused.

"Our week-iversary, Mr. Todd! We've been open for an entire week!" said Lovett happily as Sweeney went to the counter and began to wipe it down with a rag. He stopped and looked up angrily.

"Don't _ever_ say that word again," he growled.

"Week-iversary? Why not?" Mrs. Lovett asked innocently.

"Arg!" Sweeney put his hand over his ears. "I said not to say that!" He threw down the towel and took his razor out of the pocket of his apron. "I'm sorry you had to stay in there all day, Jeremy. It's just that the customers don't really like having sharp objects around unless I'm cutting a pizza. I think they're scared of you, my little friend. I don't know why they would be…"

Lovett ignored Sweeney and his razor as she put her head down again to read the paper. Sweeney continued to talk to Jeremy.

"I mean, you aren't frightening in the least bit, I believe. If anyone's scary around here, it'd be Lovett!" He smiled slightly.

Lovett looked up, furious. "Just watch what you say now, Sweeney Todd!" She looked back down and continued to read for a bit before she exclaimed excitedly, "Why, would you just look at this! We're on the front page!" Here she began to read from the article. "'_Sweeney's Makes it Big!_Sweeney Todd's Demonic Pizzeria of Fleet Street, run by Mr. Todd and his beautiful co-owner Mrs. Miranda Lovett – '"

"Pft! Beautiful?" interrupted Sweeney. "Wow, does this reporter need his eyes checked or what?"

Lovett glared at the ex-barber.

"Sorry, sorry, please do continue."

"As I was saying, 'Mrs. Miranda Lovett, has only been open for a week and has already shown much promise. Each day, the Italian-themed shop gets an average of 65 customers – and that's just during the lunch hour! Sweeney's has become the talk of all of London, and already other restaurants see a decline in business. Our _London Times_ reporters caught up with one customer outside of the pizza parlor on Fleet Street. "I've been here lots of times," says Tobias Rag, known as Toby to all his friends. "Everyone just loves Sweeney's pizza. It's simply to die for!"'"

Sweeney Todd chuckled to himself.

"What? What's so funny?" asked Lovett.

"Sorry, I'm just laughing at the irony of that statement." Sweeney started laughing even harder.

Lovett ignored him and continued reading aloud. "'In fact, Sweeney's has been rated the best pizzeria in all of London!'" She squealed, excited. "Did you hear that, Mr. Todd!?"

Sweeney jumped up, closest to excited he'd been since Australia. "Did you hear what Lovett said, Jeremy? The best in the entire city!" He held his razor up at arms length as he spoke to it. "Isn't this just great, my friend?"

"Why yes, yes it is!" said Lovett, getting up and walking over to Sweeney, hoping he might want to share his pleasure with a passionate kiss.

"I was talking to Jeremy," said Sweeney.

Lovett stopped walking and stood in the middle of the shop, looking put out, her arms crossed, sulking.

"You know, we really should celebrate! Maybe eat out at a restaurant…anyone but this one. You never know what goes into the food around this joint," said Sweeney sarcastically, although he sounded slightly joyous, like he was having fun with his little joke.

"Well, alright then. Why don't we go to Anthony's?" suggested Lovett, brightening a little.

Sweeney pretended not to hear her. "Come, Jeremy! Why don't we go to the deli and pick up a sub? You can cut it in half for me, if you like."

Lovett sighed. "May I come along, as well, Mr. Todd?"

Sweeney finally looked away from his razor and at Lovett. "Well, if you insist."

**AT ANTHONY'S DELI**

As Sweeney Todd reached for the door handle, he noticed a sign in the window of the door to the deli that read, "Anthony's Deli: Where Your Sandwich Comes With a Song".

"I'm not even going to stop to make fun of that," he said, then opened the door and walked into the deli. Mrs. Lovett started after him, expecting him to hold the door for a beautiful lady.

"Ooph!" she cried as she walked right into the door that had slammed shut in her face. She opened the door herself and angrily walked into the deli, mumbling under her breath – something about "foul", "pig", and "Todd". Sweeney and Lovett sat on bar stools at a counter on one side of the room.

"Well, this place is certainly more of a dump than I remember…though it was pretty bad in the first place," said the pizza man. He and Lovett turned their heads to see Anthony standing on a stage at the other end of the room, singing soprano to the only other customers in the deli, a couple who did not seem to be enjoying their free show.

"Good thing I brought the earplugs..." said Lovett as she dug them out from her purse.

"Hey!" shouted Sweeney angrily. "Why didn't you bring me any?"

"You weren't going to invite me," said Lovett simply, putting the earplugs in. Sweeney held his hands over his ears to block out Anthony's singing.

"I hate him!" he screamed.

"What?" asked Mrs. Lovett.

"I said, I HATE HIM!!"

"What'd you say, Mr. Todd? Speak up. I can't hear you."

Those were some really good earplugs.

"I. HATE. HIM!"

"Could you repeat that, dear?"

Sweeny shook his head and gave up. Meanwhile, the couple on the other side of the room was leaving. The male slapped some money down on the table, and the two hurried out of the deli. It took Anthony a while to notice that they'd left. When he did, he stopped singing and sidled over to Sweeney and Lovett.

"What can I do you for today?" Anthony said with one of those fake waiter-smiles. Sweeney took his hands off of his ears.

"Took you long enough," he said.

The grin on Anthony's face instantly disappeared. "Oh great, it's you, Sweeney. Listen, what do you want? Or did you just come here to gloat?"

Mrs. Lovett, still wearing her earplugs, said, "I don't own a boat."

"Oh, wonderful," sighed Anthony. "You brought the old loon, too!"

But Lovett still couldn't hear him. "Why, you flatter me, Anthony."

Anthony rolled his eyes. "Look, do you want a sandwich or not?"

"I'd love to get married to Mr. Todd. Thank you for asking," said Lovett with a smile.

Sweeney's temper got the better of him. "SHUT UP, LOVETT!" he yelled, standing up from the bar stool and waving his arms around.

Lovett finally took out the earplugs. "What'd you say, Mr. Todd?"

"'Gimme those things!" Sweeney grabbed the earplugs from Lovett's hand and chucked them across the room.

"Would you like to order, or should I leave you two to work out your matrimonial issues?" asked Anthony impatiently.

"We are not married!"

"Calm down, Mr. Todd," Lovett said gently. "Anthony, I'd like a sandwich with pickles, onions, peppers, tomato, and lettuce."

"What, no meat?" said Anthony as Sweeney sat back down.

"I think I've seen enough meat for one day."

"What about you, Sweeney?"

"A foot long with Swiss and roast beef. Don't cut it in half."

"Coming right up," said Anthony grudgingly. He stomped off, entering the kitchen doors and leaving Sweeney and Lovett alone.

Sweeney turned to her. "We are never getting married, you know."

Lovett put another set of earplugs from her purse in her ears. "What was that, Mr. Todd? I couldn't quite hear you." She smiled, like this was a little trick to avoid the conversation. Which it was. That was when Sweeney heard Anthony singing in the kitchen.

"I have sailed the world, beheld its wonders, from the French pastries to the spices of Asia, but there's no place like the Deli! I feel home again…I could hear the restaurant calling…Whatever would I do?"

"Make my darned sandwich, that's what!" yelled Sweeney Todd. Anthony emerged from the swinging doors of the kitchen carrying the sandwiches and walked towards his only two customers, still singing.

"No, there's…"

"No place like Sweeney's…" sang the demonic pizza man.

Anthony set the sandwiches on the counter in front of Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett, saying, "Mr. Todd, sir–"

Sweeney cut his foot long in half with his razor, interrupting Anthony. "There you go, Jeremy. Now wasn't that nice?"

He and Lovett began to eat. Sweeney sang between bites with food in his mouth, "You are young…Life has been kind to you…You will learn." Then he said, putting change on the counter, "'Tis here we go our separate ways." He got up, still eating his sub. "Farewell, Anthony. I will not soon forget the delicious sandwich, nor the young man who made me it." Sweeney pulled Lovett up from her seat as she was still eating, pushing her out of the shop, trying to get away from the terrible singing of Anthony.

"There's no cause to thank me for that, sir." Then he said sarcastically, jealous of Sweeney's good business, as he placed his hand over his heart melodramatically, "It would have been a poor cook indeed who would not have spotted you walking into their shop and not given you food."

Sweeney pushed Lovett out the door in front of him and stepped out onto the street in front of the deli, followed by the soprano, saying, "There's many a cook would've done just that and not lost a wink's sleep over it either. May I suggest myself? Now, you must forgive me for rushing out, Anthony."

Anthony smiled deviously and said, "Oh, but there is nothing to forgive." He waved as Sweeney and Lovett began to walk away down the cobblestone street.

Sweeney looked over his shoulder only long enough to say, "Farewell, Anthony." Then he hurried with Lovett down the street so he wouldn't have to hear anymore of Anthony's singing.

As they disappeared from site, Anthony scowled, suddenly showing his anger, jealousy, and how un-peppy he was…unlike normally, when you can't get him to shut up. "And to think, I ever saved that man's life at sea, offered him help and money." He shouted, "Well, he's got plenty of that now!" Anthony walked over to the lamppost that sat on the corner, grabbing it with his hands and swinging out over the curb. He yelled even louder, "Well, I'll steal your business, Sweeney! If it's the last thing I do!"

* * *

**I want you, eaters! er...READERS!! and reviewers, too! "Not one review, no, not ten reviews. Not a hundred can assuage me!" Hopefully the next posting will come sooner. Ruby and I are already working on it.**


	4. The Proposition

Even though the pizzeria was full of customers, it was eerily quiet, with only the muttered chatter of the consumers. There was a chill to the air, like something was about to happen. Even in the kitchen, Mrs. Lovett was oddly silent, not yelling/smacking Sweeney as she cooked. Sweeney was, for once, helping to serve the crowd in the pizza shop.

Suddenly, the front door flew open, the bell above it ringing solemnly, to reveal a shadowed figure surrounded from behind by the bright, late morning light. All the customers whipped their heads around before the big door could noisily slam shut. Without the light from behind, it was easy to identify the man.

"Anthony!" Sweeney greeted him grimly. "What brings you to my demonic pizzeria?"

"You sir, too sir," cried the "singer". "I CHALLENGE YOU TO A COOK-OFF!"

Sweeney eyes narrowed, and he angrily placed his hands on his hips. "Hey, that's my line!" He started to pull out Jeremy.

"It doesn't matter!" cried Anthony quickly.

"But I have a patent on that line. Ask Tim Burton or Stephen Sondheim if you can use it!" Sweeney said simply. He sarcastically looked around. "But look around you, Anthony. They're not here!" Jeremy was unleashed from his holster. Sweeney advanced forward, around the counter, towards the soprano, arm raised. "I'll show _you_ a challenge!"

Just as he was about to strike Anthony's pale throat, hidden under his chin and wide eyes, a hand tightly gripped his right arm. Sweeney, still angry, turned to see Lovett at his side, a fierce look in his eyes.

"Mr. Todd," she whispered into his ear. "You might just want to think this through."

Sweeney glanced around the room at the silent, wide-eyed customers. He laughed slowly and retreated back a few steps.

"He was just about to…er…cut a pizza for Mr. Anthony here," Lovett told the diners.

"I don't want your pizza!" Anthony spat, recovering quickly. "I want to beat you in a cook off!"

"Anthony, Anthony…" said Sweeney more calmly as he sliced a newly baked pizza with his razor. "I think it is _you_ who will be beat!"

"Oh yeah?" Anthony stepped forward, the crowd parting around him. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, it is!" Sweeney stepped forward, as well.

Now Anthony and he were face to face, only inches from each other, glaring. Without looking back, he took out Jeremy and handed it back to Lovett.

"Hold this, old girl." he said flatly, "or things might get a little _dicey!_" He smiled in the singer's face, but Lovett rolled her eyes.

Anthony's face paled, but his stare never wavered. "Let's do it then!" he cried. "We'll make our foods and see which ones the eaters like best."

Sweeney's ears perked up. "Did you just say _bleeders_? I told you to STOP USING MY LINES!"

"I said _eaters_, you fool! As in people who eat _food_."

"People don't _bleed_ food. And who's calling who a fool?"

"I'm calling you a fool! Oh yeah, that's right, I went there!"

"Boys," interjected Lovett, stepping between them, "I say we settle this the old-fashioned way."

"Singing?"

"Sharp objects?"

"No, no, no. Mr. Anthony's first suggestion, a cook off," shouted Lovett, impatient.

"They used to settle things that way?" asked Anthony.

"In the kitchen they used to, back in the good ol' days."

"And just how long ago was that Lovett? Were you serving to a bunch of knights in shining armor?" Sweeney cackled.

"You're one to talk, Sir Grey-Streak!"

"So, it's settled then, a cook off, tomorrow!" Anthony said, delighted.

But Sweeney was still in his own little world. "I thought people _dueled_ to the _death _to settle things in the good ol' days," he protested.

Lovett rolled her eyes and shook Anthony's hand. "You got a deal, buddy!"

Anthony smiled. "Joanna and I will be practicing all night!"

Lovett nodded absentmindedly while glancing at Sweeney, who was fingering Jeremy, still mumbling about dueling to the death. She pushed Anthony out the door with an, "I don't want blood on a swept floor!" and closed the door behind him. She pulled a chair close to her and mounted it, calling to the customers.  
"Listen up! Tomorrow, Sweeney Todd's Demonic Pizzeria will be participating in a…"  
"DUEL TO THE DEATH!" Sweeney yelled, whipping out his razor.

"NO! A cook off! Right here in the shop, against Anthony's Deli."

"Wait," said Sweeney, looking up from Jeremy. "_Not_ a duel to the death?"  
"No, cook off!"  
"Oh…"

Sweeney crossed the room to stand by Lovett. "Ah yes," he addressed the crowd in the pizza shop. "Be there or be _lunch_."

Lovett bent down from her perch on the chair to whisper in his ear. "Uh, I think you mean _square_."

"No," said Sweeney, cuddling Jeremy at his chin, "_Lunch_."

Mrs. Lovett spoke to the crowd again. "The shop will now be closing. Mr. Todd and I must prepare for tomorrow." This comment was accepted with much groaning. "But we invite you to share in the cook off tomorrow and celebrate our victory with us afterwards!"

Cheers shook the windows.

"So, be there tomorrow or be…" she glared down at Sweeney, "…lunch."

The eaters left the pizzeria.

"Shoo!" Sweeny yelled, chasing a man out the door. "Go unless you want to be a little priest!"

A short old man with a large rosary hanging from his white-collared neck threw up his hands. "Oh praise the Lord! We need more God-fearing preachers!"

"OUT!" shrieked Sweeney, waving Jeremy above his head. The last dregs of people of people left, and the demonic pair set to work preparing for the cook off against Anthony.

* * *

**Howdy y'all! Ruby and Hazel here! We actually wrote this one together, as in, sitting side by side (or more accurately in the same chair).**

**Hazel-You need bigger chairs, dear.**

**Ruby- Yes, I know, my butt is huge! XD Kidding…**

**Hazel-So, unless you want to be…lunch…read the next chapter, which will be about the cook off.**

**Ruby- And…if you don't drop a review, we'll set either God-fearing preachers on you, or we'll let Sweeney duel you to the death! No flames, or else you'll burn in Sweeney's oven along with Lovett!**

**Much love,**

**Ruby Thorn and hazel260**


	5. Beauty Products of Peril

****

Hello, bleeders! I know Ruby and I promised to post the cook off chapter next, but due to the unfortunes of reality outside the world of fanfiction, we could not get together to write it quite yet. So here is the prelude to the actual cook off. Anthony tries to find a partner for the competition...or life. Either one would make him happy. Chapter by _moi_, giggles courtesy of Ruby Thorn.

* * *

**Chp 5: Beauty Products of Peril**

Anthony stole through the streets of London, sneaking through the shadows of the night. The streets were quiet but for a few sketchy fellows, whom Anthony stayed away from, and a crazy woman crying, "Alms! Alms! For a miserable woman!" Anthony stayed even farther away from her. He flattened his back against the stone wall of a towering mansion, looking up at a window on the second story, dark but for the small, orange light of a burning candle. He had been here before. With his hands, he grabbed hold of some vines growing across the face of the stones and pulled himself up. The toes of his shoes found the familiar holes and uneven stones that provided footholds. He hoisted himself up to the window, rapping his knuckles on the glass pane. In a few moments, the casement window swung outwards, nearly taking off his head. But he didn't care – he was staring at the beautiful blonde girl on the other side of the windowsill. She had never so much as opened the window before.

"Oh, no…not you again," she moaned, but her eyes did not look frightened, nor did she shut the window.

Anthony's heart felt light, and the rest of his vision blurred while her face stayed in focus. Softly, he lifted his hand and entwined his fingers in her golden hair, singing, "I feel you, Johanna…I feel you."

Johanna pushed his hand away but not hard enough to make him lose his balance. The window stayed open as she wondered why she didn't push this crazy boy off the side of her house, slam the window shut, and go back to bed. The boy continued to stare at her, never blinking as he went on singing.

"I was half-convinced I'd knock, satisfied enough to dream you. Happily I was mistaken, Johanna…"

"Wait, hold up. You _dream_ about me? I barely even know you!" Johanna took a step away from the window, looking nervous. "What do you want? Why are you always singing outside my window? Just who do you think you are?"

"Why, Anthony, of course. Who did you think I was? Elmo?"

"No, no. I know your name is Anthony."

"Ah, so you've admired me, as well!"

"Erm, _no_. I can hear you singing down there, you know. And there is no way 'Johanna and Anthony' are sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G." Even though she was being very sarcastic, Anthony didn't seem the slightest bit embarrassed.

"Of course we aren't sitting in a tree. You're up here in your room, and I'm outside your window…but that could all change, my darling."

"Are you trying to _sweet talk_ me? Because that's where I draw the line, buddy." Johanna put her hands on her hips, wanting to close the window, but she couldn't do that without getting closer to the soprano perv.

"Come away with me, my yellow-haired goddess."

"GODDESS?!?!"

"Escape this dungeon and be my partner in the cook off."

Johanna took a step forward. "I _would_ like to get out of this pla–Wait, COOK OFF?!?!"

Anthony ignored her outburst and continued his song. "I'll steal you, Johanna. I'll steal you…"

"Oh, no, you will not! I'm not going anywhere with some insane soprano who's got a major crush on me and sings at my window every night! And unbeknownst to you men, I'm a young lady, not some object. I can't be _stolen_."

"Do they think that walls could hide you?"

"Actually, Judge Turpin did…"

"Even now, I'm at your window."

"I wish you weren't but anyways…"

"I am in the dark beside you…"

Anthony began to slowly climb inside the window. Johanna backed up against the far wall, eyes wide with fear, too startled to scream. Anthony crossed the room, and before Johanna could stop him, he embraced her, his face in her aromatic hair. Johanna couldn't move in his grasp and was too alarmed to ask questions.

"Buried sweetly in your yellow hair!" He pulled away, holding her just by her upper arms. "I feel you, Johanna! And one day, I'll steal you! Til I'm with you then, I'm with you there! Sweetly buried in your yellow hair…!" With that, he kissed her tenderly on the cheek.

Johanna finally found the strength to shove him away. "Just what is your problem, mister!" She walked towards her chiffonier, hoping to find a hair brush or some other beauty product to beat him with.

"Um…Johanna, dear...what are you doing?" Anthony asked, a little frightened.

"Finding something I can smack the pervert in my bedroom with!" Johanna found a hair brush on top of the chiffonier and turned back towards Anthony.

"What perv in your room, my yellowed-haired darling?"

"That's the other thing!" Johanna exploded. "Will you people stop saying I have yellow hair? I know that. You know that. WE ALL GET IT!" She stepped forward menacingly.

Anthony threw up his arms like he was surrendering to the fuzz. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry! But…" He put his arms down.

"But what?" Johanna lowered the formidable hair brush.

"_Will_ you be my partner in the cook off?"

At first, Johanna looked like she really might whack him now, but then she sighed. "Will you stop stalking me if I agree to be your partner in this…cook off?"

"Uh, sure…" Anthony crossed his fingers behind his back.

"Really sure?"

"Uh-huh…"

"Really, _really_ sure?"

"YES, I'M SURE!"

"Okay." Johanna smiled. "But how do you suggest I get out of this place?"

"Same way I got in?" Anthony suggested. Johanna sighed again but begrudgingly agreed. Anthony climbed back out the window but looked back in to see that Johanna wasn't following. "Coming, my sweets?"

"If this is some contest in _public_, I'd prefer not to participate wearing only my _nightgown_. I'm changing first."

"Oh, okay." Anthony started to come back through the window.

"Oh no, you don't!" Johanna crossed the room and shut the window in the soprano's face, drawing the drapes closed.

"Drat…"

After Johanna changed into proper attire, she opened the window and climbed out, following Anthony down the stone wall of the mansion as he showed her where she could find foot- and handholds. Johanna jumped down to the street, and Anthony led the way back through the shadows of London.

* * *

**_~Fin~_**

**Tee hee...Wow, Anthony is quite the perv. If you noticed, the song "Johanna" was adopted for this chapter. So we hope you've enjoyed "Beauty Products of Peril" because, really, they are quite perilous. Our apologies that this chapter is so short. Ruby and I will try to bring you the real cook off chapter soon.**


End file.
